Sweet as Sugar
by kittykatloren
Summary: She was plenty sweet enough for him already, he thought. Fire Emblem 9/10; Zihark/Ilyana oneshot.


**A/N: **Done as a Valentines giftfic over at the fe_exchange community on LJ. I was late in writing this, so it was kinda rushed, but you know. Zihark and Ilyana are always cute! Enjoy, and please leave a review. ^^

**Words: **982  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Zihark, Ilyana  
><strong>Time: <strong>Post-_Radiant Dawn_  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Humor/Romance

**Disclaimer: **Everything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me.

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><p>Ilyana sidled up to him one sunny afternoon as he lazily practiced his swordplay behind their home. He wasn't simply swinging his blade around for show, of course, but if it drew Ilyana from their kitchen in order to watch him, he supposed that wasn't an unpleasant consequence. Picking up his pace a little, he practiced until she gave a little cough. He glanced over at her. Her hands were clasped and she was looking at him imploringly.<p>

"Zihark?" She fluttered her eyelashes ever so innocently at him, her lips just barely hinting at a smile. "Could we please go to the market? You know, the big one at central square? I'd go alone, but I always get distracted by the food stalls, and then I don't know how to get home… But, you have to promise not to look at what I'm buying…"

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Secrets, hm?"

"Please?"

"Oh, all right. I promise," he said, glad to see her grin at his acquiescence. She bounced a little bit on her heels, the breeze catching her skirt and hair. Her small hand clasped around his, which forced him to sheathe his sword, and she didn't let go. He sighed and obliged her by twining their fingers together.

In the market, there was such a hustle and bustle that it was Zihark who clung most strongly to Ilyana's small fingers, ensuring that she didn't stray too far from his side. Her head was, as always, turning every which way, mouth slightly open, her eyes lingering on hot, fresh loaves of bread and dark, shiny bushels of apples. Every now and then, his arm would drift one way or another as she tried to wander off.

"I would remind you what you're actually here for, except you won't tell me."

"Oh! Oh, yes. Thank you."

At last she came to a very firm and decisive stop. There were too many stalls and shops on all sides of the central square for him to know where she was really headed.

"All right, close your eyes," she said.

He obeyed, and now Ilyana was leading. Through the market furor, all he could hear were odd exclamations, rustlings, and the clinking of coins leaving Ilyana's purse (he found himself hoping that they weren't gold.)

Eventually, she said, "Okay, you can open your eyes."

Immediately he looked at the bulging bag in her free hand, but it was, of course, visually impenetrable. She smiled sweetly. When they reached their home, she kissed him on the cheek and shooed him back to his swordplay.

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><p>The sun was dangerously close to the horizon when Zihark decided he had no choice but to break his promise not to inquire as to Ilyana's actions. Smoke was boiling out of their chimney in astonishing volumes. Sure enough, when he burst into the house, something was burning on the kitchen stove-fire, which was roaring and completely untended. Ilyana was sitting daintily on a cushioned chair. Her lips seemed particularly pink, and she had a few crumbs at the corners of her mouth.<p>

"Ilyana, what are you doing?" Zihark called.

Her eyes grew wide. "Zihark! I'm making you a _surprise_. You promised you wouldn't come in!"

"I figured it would be all right to make an exception in the case of our house nearly being burnt down," he said dryly, pointing to the cooking fire.

"Oh!"

She leapt to her feet like she herself were on fire. With frantic exclamations, she retrieved a bucket of water and doused the flames, which sent another stream of smoke sizzling up the chimney. Some of it escaped into the kitchen. Both of them coughed, and as Ilyana was closer to the catastrophe, some of the black soot settled on her face and hair. Only her bright eyes shone through the gray film, and she looked so shocked and pitiful that Zihark couldn't help but laugh out loud. She shot him a pleading look.

"Don't laugh! I was only… I was trying to make you something," she said sadly. She gestured towards her worktable, where sat one lonely sliver of something that looked like a smashed pile of overripe fruit. Limp bags of sugar, a half-emptied jar of honey, apple cores, and crusts of sweetbread littered the space around Ilyana's miniature creation.

"I appreciate the thought, but… what is it?" said Zihark.

"Apple pie!" said Ilyana. "Only… I might have… eaten a lot of the ingredients before I got started. And I also might have… forgotten about the fire, because I had a whole dozen sweet rolls, and they were so tasty. So… I only had enough stuff left over for one piece of pie, and I've never made it before, so I know it doesn't look pretty. But I tried _really_ hard not to eat it, because I wanted you to have it."

Earnest and sincere, Ilyana extended the mildly pathetic piece of pie to him. As much as she loved to eat, Ilyana had never quite gotten a good grasp on cooking, so Zihark took it in trepidation that he attempted to disguise as gratitude. He took a cautious bite. Sure enough, he had to fight choking; it wasn't that it was bad, persay, but simply full of so much sugar that he couldn't even taste the apples. The whole thing was a sticky, melted mess, but he gulped it down as best he could, smiling weakly at her.

Ilyana beamed. A piece of the sticky sweetness still clung to his cheek, so Ilyana bounced and kissed it clean. But before she could move away, Zihark caught her arm and kissed her back, figuring he ought to have a reward for suffering through such an overload of sugar. _She_ was plenty sweet enough for him already, he thought.


End file.
